


Left with a Trace (of all that could have been)

by DarlingNikki



Series: Touched [4]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingNikki/pseuds/DarlingNikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie's new life with Santanico is nothing like what he expected.  Instead of a home, he's a tool to be used, and Santanico has no heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left with a Trace (of all that could have been)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, new part! Umm, there is some implied noncon in this. So this is a warning! You know, I really like Santanico as a character, but I do need a bad guy for this, and well, she fits the part. I'm gonna have to do something with her that's more positive than this series is, eventually. Title is from "And All That Could Have Been" by Nine Inch Nails.   
> Also, I'm not 100% sure when I'll get time to write this week, so hopefully new parts next weekend.

She said it would be easy. Making a connection with her was supposed to be everything he'd been waiting his entire life for. He'd dreamed of her. Her voice whispered sweet salvation in his ears, promising safety, a place where he would belong. Richie had thought she'd promised something like what Seth had felt for Vanessa, passion and love and care. Cakes baked every year for Seth's birthday. Someone for him, a missing part to make the world make sense to him, like it does for other people.

Santanico lied though.

He sees it now. He sees how she looks at him, her tool to be wielded in her quest for revenge against the Nine Lords. He is just another knife to her. A useful one, but still only a instrument. He means no more to her than the blade she'd sent to him. Santanico doesn't have a heart. He should have remembered her words, she'd told him that she had no heart, but he'd forgotten.

He'd forgotten in the rush of power, of change, and then she'd had him. Hook, line, and sinker. She'd been playing the exact con he'd thought. Pretty girl, pretty words, lies.

He'd forgotten Seth, left him behind, thinking it was for the best. He was going where his brother couldn't follow, and he wanted to know his brother was out there, living a life, growing fat and old like he couldn't anymore. He wanted Seth to be safe. He was a fool. He'd been a fool the second he set eyes on Santanico on the stage, thinking that finally he's found his place. His place had always been there, right in front of him, but he had just been too blind to see it. His place was with his brother, one half of the notorious Gecko brothers.

He hadn't been a prisoner with Seth. Santanico hadn't set him free. She'd only bound him in chains of her own design.

His place, it could have been with Kate.

He kept meeting her in the strangest situations. Kate had been light and beauty, and all those things that weren't meant for him, with his bloodstained hands. She'd never seemed to notice the blood as he left streaks of it behind on her skin every time they'd touched. She'd looked straight through him, and never seemed scared of what she'd found there. Instead, she'd welcomed him. She'd kissed him sweetly, and gave little pieces of herself as gifts. She'd shared her grief, and she'd shared her innocence. She didn't fear him, even when she should have.

He remembers kneeling between her thighs, tasting her sweetness, warm milk and honey. She'd fallen apart so beautifully for him. Her innocence had been a balm on his soul. She'd soothed him in that back room, made a fire all her own burn inside of him. It's burning now, banked low.

He thinks of those two nights after Santanico leaves him laying torn apart in her bed. She takes her pleasure in breaking him, over and over. She rips and tears, and leaves. She leaves him with his intestines spread out on white sheets. She leaves him with his throat a red ruin, so she isn't bothered by his cries. She takes and she takes, and she gives nothing in return but pain. Richie wishes he knew her thoughts. Is this her way of taking back her power? In those moments, is he the vessel for her revenge?

He doesn't know.

Thinking of Kate is how he gets through the agony of his flesh knitting back together.

In those moments, he closes his eyes, and he's in a different place, a different life.

He imagines Kate, older and fully grown, laying by his side. She traces her fingers over his face and smiles at him. They hold hands, and he feels like he's home. He imagines Seth walking in, smirking at them, and curling up behind Kate. He imagines home.

Home isn't a place. Home is by their side.

Home is nowhere.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass. Richie still wonders where Seth is, where Kate is.

He dreams of them.

He sees an endless parade of motel rooms, each blending into each other.

He sees Seth, holding himself together, with sarcasm and bluffs.

He sees Kate, growing and learning, and becoming strong.

They never speak about him.

 

* * *

 

Santanico starts disappearing. She always comes back, eventually. She brings him young girls, they all share a common look. Sometimes their eyes are blue, sometimes they're brown. They're all pale, and they all have dark brown hair. He looks at them and sees Kate.

It's probably Santanico's reason for choosing them.

They never survive the night.

Santanico doesn't share her plans with him. They cross the border into the US. She tells him to stay inside the room, since he's a wanted man, after all.

Santanico tells him to wait. His time is growing closer, but first she has plans she needs to work on before Richie's part is ready.

She'd promised him a kingdom by her side, but the walls grow smaller and smaller, and Richie realizes that she'd made another cage for him with her pretty words and sad eyes.

 

* * *

 

He dreams of Kate, by the pool.

She's as perfect as the first time he saw her there.

He can't keep his eyes off of her, at least until the sky turns dark, and Kate's face slides into mute horror. He looks at the pool and sees blood bubbling, and then he knows. He's not surprised when Santanico saunters out of the water. There is no safe place from her, and he should have known that by now.

Santanico is behind him. He sits as still as he can behind her. If he doesn't move, maybe she won't strike.

Her hand runs through his hair, jerking his head back, exposing his throat. She taunts Kate, and Richie watches Kate. His eyes find hers. She's so scared, but so brave. Her chin juts out, and she clenches her jaw. She never takes her eyes away from his. He wonders if she's seeing through him again.

The dream melts away, and he's back in bed. His hands run across his throat, checking to see if the damage is undone. It is.

He sits up, and looks to the corner, where another young prostitute is tied up in the floor. She's crying softly, praying to a god that won't answer her, and Richie is weak and hungry.

He gets up and tosses her roughly on the bed. Healing is thirsty work. His fangs descend, and the woman starts screaming, but they quickly die after Richie's fangs tear out her throat.

Idly, he wonders what Kate would think of him now.

Would she still kiss him chastely, and look at him like he had all of the answers, or would she scream like the young girls do?

Would she put an end to this? Would she set him free?

**Author's Note:**

> pinkglitterygoth.tumblr.com


End file.
